Blood Wars
by LoveWinsOverHate
Summary: The triumph between good and evil, who will win. Mylos' hopes and dreams rest upon his own magical abilities; although he was unaware of his twin brothers own intentions. Unaware, that he would be used as a pawn, unaware of what the world would do with him. Now, we embark on the journey of good and evil, choose wisely and you shall see who will win...perhaps...
1. Prologue

A council of men and women to rule over mythical creatures; whom at one time in human history, reigned supreme.

The council composed of mythical creatures to hide their existence from humans. Imperfect as it may be, they have managed to keep the peace between man and myth, as uneasy as the peace may have been.

Until one dreadful day in the year 1509, on January first.

A child born of a demon mother and a warlock father came into the light, meaning he came into the age of which, his warlock powers and demon powers have awoken and the surge of power created a new power.

The child, named Lucifer, born of two magi's, was destroyed; his mind broken and his soul split in two. Torn between right and wrong; good and evil; light and darkness.

"I see the sins of this world, I see the evil in you both, I feel the pain and anger for the betrayals of our species."

A mother and father, his mother and father; the ones who gave him life, lying on the floor, covered in their own blood.

As he held their still-beating hearts in his hand, he brought the pulpy flesh to his lips, the beating of the hearts vibrated against his lips and down his throat as he devoured them.

Red eyes he began his killing spree of those he claimed unworthy of life. Striking them down and then devouring their hearts.

As the council began to hear of this child they grew furious; sending out their best men, demons, to kill him.

Once he was destroyed they made a new law.

"I hereby decree that mythical beings cannot intermix or breed." Lord Alexander declared.

Though the decree shocked the community; they did not know of the sins of the child known as Lucifer.

But as years passed the story nearly faded out of existence, until a child who was the direct descendant of Lord Alexander found the story in the counsels' archive and in his adulthood, wrote a book explaining the old decree.

Though this story is not about this young Vampiric author. It is about what came about due to the decree. Let us begin our tale of the sins of this world.


	2. The Awakening

Blood. Lust. Sin.

Never in his many years of existence did he or could he ever fathom in his heart and mind that he would be the cause of so much bloodshed.

An ache ran throughout his body as the pungent and irony scent of blood filled his senses. The ache of a sinful lust that Mylo Mychavich though that he had learned to control all those years ago.

A lust for blood.

As he gazed out upon the battleground, a truly gruesome sight to behold, bodies lie about the field. Some dead already, most praying for death; bodies burnt, bleeding out or torn to shreds lay ahead of him. Strewn about as if they were a childs' playthings rather than fully grown, powerful mythical beings.

He and the other Halflings, otherwise known as Half-breeds, were fighting a losing battle against a counsel who opposed their very existence. A counsel ruled by pure blood mythical beings, the most excellent and elected of their kinds, who even the mightiest kings in their primes would not dare sacrifice their men in the onslaught that would surely engage if they dare chose to do battle with them.

But this tale of woe does not begin with the War of the Halflings, a battle that may have begun on that dreadfully dreary winter day in the year of 1616 and yet would not come to an end until some four-hundred years later, no, it begins in a much simpler time.

This is the tale of good, of evil, and of the consequences born of it.

†††

Blood. Lust. Sin.

Such thoughts raced into his mind, though the sight before him became too much to bear and the scent making him nauseous.

A slender arm snaked around the brunette boys' slim shoulders in a comforting manner, the boys' strangely colored eyes – the right eye crimson red and the left eye sapphire blue – filled to the brim with tears threatening to spill over onto his pale yet flush cheeks.

Hands sweaty and shaking, with trembling fingers he reached out to touch the horrid scene before him, but was stopped by a man he had known since he was six years old.

"No Mylo, do not touch. Merely observe what you have done and know that there is no shame in this act." Solomon spoke, ensuring that he spoke in soothing tones as if not to scare the sixteen-year-old boy before him.

"But Solomon! I have taken a life! A life that was not rightfully mine to take!" He sobbed and looked up to his mentor and friend. Though he was nearly six-foot tall Solomon always seemed to tower over him.

Solomon looked down to the boy with his grey eyes that often resembled that of smoke. Brows furrowed in concentration on his smooth and ivory toned face as if thinking and choosing his next few words carefully; his thick yet athletic body covered by a thick black wool suit and hands by leather gloves.

"In order to sustain life, any life, whether it be human, warlock or vampire; life must be taken." He said slowly and carefully. "To clear your soul and mind of the heavy burden of guilt one must honor their sacrifice."

Solomon watched as the boy knelt to his knees and sighed, he knew Mylo would not accept the change as a vampire very easily.

Mylo had always been to kind, to soft-hearted, to innocent; he had taken after his mother rather than his ruthless father who would kill any man who dared look at him wrong.

He watched as Mylo spoke a silent prayer for the nameless victim then waved his hand over the drained corpse. As the body burned, he stood, "We must honor your sacrifice, now release your soul from this earth-bound body and wander to the gates of judgment; whether you are fated for Heaven or Hell." He bowed respectfully, holding his hand parallel to his face, holding up his index and middle finger, pointing to the Heavens and against the tip of his nose; he felt cleansed.

They began to walk home in silence, though the atmosphere around them was this with darkness, neither dare break the silence.

While Solomons' mind was on the future, Mylos' however, was focused on the past.

†††

"In ancient days when we rued over the free world, we did not hide out of fear." Came the soft voice of Victoria Annabelle Mychavich, the mother of the two boys and a witch; she smiled softly at her sons as she read from a scroll that looked older than time itself.

Her honey blonde curly hair spilled messily over her slim shoulders and frame, sapphire blue eyes that were soft, warm and kind; full pink lips turned up at the corners in a soft smile that held dear to her beautiful features, busy slim body covered in a pale blue dress.

A young Mylo lay in the large bed, tucked in up to his chin with is small fingers creeping over the edge of the minx-fur blanket; hair the color of charcoal, pale peach toned skin, his right eye crimson red and his left eye sapphire blue. And a young Micah – Mylos' twin brother – His short honey blond hair that resembled that of his mothers. Pale peach toned flesh and his right eye sapphire blue and his left eye crimson red.

The young Micah was the first to speak, "Who rules over the free world now? And why must we hide?"

"So young and naive." Victoria smiled and laid down the scroll on their bedside dresser and took each of their hands into her own, moving her thumbs in small circles, gently as she sighed. "Humans rule over the free world that is around us and that is why we must hide; humans tend to destroy what they fear and what they cannot understand."

"How come we allow them to live? If we must hide, then surely our numbers are great-" Micah was cut off by his mother who gasped.

"Micah! Hold your tongue! Speak not of these foul thoughts and ensure that you rid yourself of them!" Victoria gasped, shocked at what she had heard out of her six-year-old sons mouth. "Who has filled your mind with these thoughts?" She demanded.

"I was speaking to the new servant, Solomon, and that is what he said should happen." Micah said in a cocky manner.

"And what about you Mylo? Do you believe this as well?" She questioned softly and gently.

"No mummy." Mylo said shaking his head, "I believe one day we will be able to live together in peace and harmony. Maybe not in my life time, but maybe in my childrens' lifetime." He said.

Victoria smiled at Mylo, "You are barely seven years old and already you speak of your own children."

"Because the future is set, it is my duty as a Mychavich to continue the bloodline." Mylo explained.

Victoria chuckled, so young and so mature, speaking as if he were ready to grow up right here and now so that he could take over for his father. She kissed their forehead and stood, smiling. "But for now, you need to sleep so you can grow up big and strong." Tucking them in, she blew out the candle on their bedside dresser. "Sleep well my young Princes."

After closing the door, she went to find Solomon to have a word with him about teaching her sons such archaic and barbaric teachings.

Mylo lie in bed, his brother snoring softly beside him, staring up through the darkness. He knew his future would hold greatness, something bigger than he would ever be, something very special.

†††

Staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, no longer hearing the soft snoring of his brother – due to him sleeping in a different room – and smiled, enjoying the fond memories of his mother.

Solomon sighed and went to collect Micah.

†††

Blood. Lust. Sin.

Blood stained the blond boys' teeth, razor sharp fangs protruded from his soft, full, red lips, claws outstretched as he knelt. Etching the face of the young woman with his claws, mesmerized by her attractive features, wanting to remember every detail of his first kill. Her button nose, sharp yet delicate chin, soft blue does like eyes, and long, curly black hair.

"Do you understand what you have done Micah?" Solomon asked, with Micahs' back turned to him he could not tell if the boy felt sorrow or not.

It seemed like an eternity before he spoke. "I have taken a life to live…" He turned to face Solomon – his right eye sapphire blue and his left eye crimson red – filled with a lust that had been absent in the eyes of his brother.

Two boys of the same moonlight, so different in so many ways, yet so similar in so few. Mylo, a soft, kind-hearted and innocent boy who excelled at the craft and Micah, a violent, wrathful, vengeful boy filled with hate who excelled by his physical strength and ruthlessness, a true vampire.

An unsettling feeling arose in the pit of his stomach as he saw the look of what could only be described as pure evil upon the boys' face.

"That is correct, now you must honor your sacrifice." Solomon instructed, and as the boy turned from him he released a breath he did not know he was holding and shuddered slightly.

He was ready.

When the flames died down Micah stood and began to walk home, "Come Solomon. I bet mother and father are awaiting us."

†††

Once home Solomon gathered the two boys in the family room, their mother and father awaiting them, though one looked happier than the other.

Flames licked the inside of the fire place, adding pleasant and serene warmth's to the room, a feeling Mylo knew he would miss once he left. He would miss the warmth and the serene feeling, miss his mother and father, he sat next to his brother on the couch.

Victoria Annabelle Mychavich, a witch and the mother of the two boys smiled at them as they sat across from her. Blonde curly hair spilled messily over her slender shoulders and frame, sapphire blue eyes glowing in what appeared to be excitement, tan skin covered by a simple yet elegant dress that was pale blue and etched in white lace that complimented her slim yet busty body. Full pink lips turned up at the corners in a soft smile that seemed to hold dear to her rather beautiful features.

Ezikiel Balthazar Mychavich, a vampire and the father of the two boys frowned with his stone like face the color of fresh cream. Crimson red eyes that seemed to bore into your soul, onyx black hair in a single braid thrown carelessly over his left broad shoulder and down his thick yet athletic body. A modest black wool suit covered his body, modest as it may have been it still was very attractive on him, two small scars on his bottom lip as if his fangs pierced it when he was very young.

"Boys, do you know why we have gathered you in here?" Soft, sweet and elegantly her words flowed and echoes in the halls of the castle.

They shook their heads, they didn't nor could they ever predict what their father was going to say in their wildest dreams.

"Your mother and I believe, since your Vampire attributes have awoken and at a rather early age as well as naturally, your mother - along with Solomon – would like to begin training you in more advanced craft. Such as attack and defense spells." Ezekiel sighed, "But heed my words children, this is no small feat and you must take a vow to the craft as not to stray from the law."

Solomon reached above the mantle and retrieved an iron box with strange symbols covering the outer walls of the box, atop it lay the crest of Mychavich – which was a shield, with two swords in the shape of a cross, with crosses on it in the three corners of it, with Latin written in it saying, "We live by night, And sleep when dead." and a small golden latch keeping it shut.

Upon opening it Solomon took the scroll out of the box, as he placed it upon the table, a chill set in the room.

"Repeat after me." Victoria spoke, holding up her left hand, "I solemnly swear to uphold the law of the craft, in doing so I promise to keep our craft sacred and honor our sacrifice."

They raised their left hand and repeated the incantation after her, using the ceremonial blade they cut their fingers. With that the scroll unraveled itself and found a proper spot for the boys to sign with their blood. "Now apply your blood." She instructed.

They did as asked and then the scroll sealed itself back up and placed itself back within its' iron chambers. Where Solomon placed it back above the mantle.

"Tomorrow a new day shall begin and with each new day shall begin and with each new day comes a new beginning."

†††

As promised, the next day in the evening when the boys awoke and dressed, a new day and a new beginning had begun for the two half-breed boys.

Both boys excited, perhaps too excited, Micah, excited by the violent nature of what was to come and Mylo excited by the opportunity to enrich the knowledge of the craft that he was extraordinarily gifted at.

As they made their way to the training court they saw that their mother was already there. Solomon standing beside her dressed in black, padded clothing – he was surely their training dummy – a serious frown on his face.

"Boys! Be ready!" Victoria grinned, then all Hell broke loose, attacks from the left and the right forced the boys to defend themselves.

†††

Bleeding, bruised and sore the two boys staggered off to their wash rooms to clean up for dinner.

Solomon looked to Victoria and sighed, "As magical beings I suggest that we divide up the boys so we can train them individually, so we can work on their strengths and weaknesses."

"You may be right, I shall train Mylo, as he is the more so skilled at his craft." She said, agreeing reluctantly. `

Bowing before her he nodded, "Then we are agreed upon, as soon as the boys wash up, I shall take them to hunt."

"See that you do." She said, walking away, suddenly she stopped and turned her head in his direction, "Do be` sure to keep an eye on Micah… He is a rather wild and handsome growing boy, and I as his mother would not want him to fall into the wrong group of friends."

"Yes ma'am." He knew she spoke the truth, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her.

Or so he thought.

As the light grew dim and night fell upon them, he took the boys out to hunt for their meal, the moon began to rise.

Mylo looked to Solomon, "Must we do this every night?" Out of curiosity he had spoken his mind, "Shouldn't we be learning to control our bloodlust?"

"For the next twenty-eight nights you two shall need to feast upon the flesh and blood of humans. For the last two nights you will feed upon the flesh and blood of demons." He explained, "To help with your magical abilities, but of course Mylo, you needn't any flesh or blood of demons. You are quite extraordinarily gifted when it comes to your skill at the craft."

An envious glare from Micah to Mylo and for a moment he wished that Solomon had not singled him out. But whether Solomon said anything or not Micah would still loathe and torment him so.

Micah had always been particularly cruel to him; punching him, shoving him, and now using his magic against him. Micah had gotten his first taste of blood Mylo could swear that Micah was trying to kill him; but he was uncertain of this to be the truth.

Micah broke the silence that had fallen over them, "Will the flesh and blood of a demon make me stronger?"

"Stronger than you would ever be or believe." Solomon stated and walked ahead of the them in silence, selecting the two young street walkers and putting them in a trance.

The boys sunk their fangs into the young women's neck and draining them of their blood.

As the bodies hit the ground Solomon looked to the boys, "Now dig your claws into the flesh and pull out their hearts while they still beat!"

Without hesitation Micah dug his claws into the searing hot flesh of the young girl and tore out her heart.

Hesitation, but still in the trance of bloodlust, he pulled out the heart of the young girl.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

Vibrations of the still beating heart resonated in their ears and against their flesh.

The acrid, pungent and irony scent of blood filled their noses and overwhelmed their senses.

"Now devour the flesh of the innocents! Consume their hearts!" Solomon instructed.

Without hesitation the boys devoured the bloody and pulpy flesh in their hands.

Mylo, the more so spiritually stronger of the two snapped out of it first. First looking at his bloody hands and then the corpse at his feet.

He fainted.

Solomon rolled his eyes and looked to Micah who was grinning.

Since the Mylo had began hunting with his father and Micah with Solomon.

†††

Savage, wild and uncontrollable; words Micah had heard all his life.

But Micah was beginning to learn a bit of control, with Solomon taking control of the boy, he had managed to help him excel in ways not though possible.

Though at times the boys anger and lust were out of control, more than once he pulled the boy out of a local brothel and more than a few times he had to pull him away from a fist fight he had began at a local pub.

"Micah my boy, control the demons that dwell within, control your rage and lust or it shall be the death of you." Solomon said as he helped him stand.

Blond hair matted down stickily with blood, face a bit swollen from the blows he received from the drunken villagers, rage shown clearly though his eyes, wounded pride in his stagger.

"I can take care of myself Solomon! I am not weak like Mylo!" Venom in every word as he shoved Solomons hand away from hi and began to walk.

With a roll of his eyes he began to walk after him, "Ah, but that is where you are wrong." Solomon chastised, "What you see as weakness in your brother, are actually his strengths, he knows when to fight and when not to. A skill in your arrogant nature, you cannot, nor will ever begin to see unless you change."

Furious beyond belief, he stopped in his tracks, "Why is it…" He began angrily, "That no matter what I do, he always seems to be the boy who does no wrong? Why, prey tell, am I always the one getting chastised by you, a mere savant!"

"Because you fool. if you have no one to be compared to, no one to try to outdo. Then how are you to excel by any means other than the norms? Or perhaps do you want your brother to be the only Mychavich to control the history books?" He grinned, he knew how to get to him, "Is that what you want?"

A new anger surged through him as he looked back, "I will be powerful, every mythical being, man. woman, child and beast shall fear my name."

Solomon could feel the tension between them, "If that is what you truly want then calm yourself and obey my every command."

A wave of calmness flooded his body, "Solomon, how are you to ensure me of what I want when you couldn't get what you wanted."

Now it was his turn to feel the burn of anger, but the boy kept fanning the flames of his rage.

"The one thing you had wanted most in the world and you couldn't get her, could you? Instead she chose father over you?" He glared.

"Stop! I may not have gotten your mother, but she is no longer my desire, I have a new desire." Though he would never admit this to himself, nor her insane child, the flame of desire still burned for Victoria.

A silence fell upon them as they began their long walk home. Though dawn approached, neither feared the sunlight, for Micahs warlock blood that flowed through his veins protected him, and Solomon himself was not a vampire.

Micah broke the silence, "I'm sorry Solomon, and I did not mean to reopen old wounds." He paused, "I just get so angry and I don't know why…"

A pause, "Because you are strong and you know it, but it angers you that it seems no one else but you know it." A sigh, "I know you are strong, but you must let go of this childish anger that consumes you so."

"What do you see in me that others do not?" Inquired Micah, he remembered long ago his mother had given up on teaching him and hired many tutors and trainers; one by one they had all fled in fear and the only explanation given was that he was the devil.

"I see something in you that I myself had when I was your age." Solomon grinned.

"And what might that be?" He wondered aloud and stopped walking and looked back to Solomon who himself had stopped walking.

"Potential."

†††

Mylo sighed again and sat down his place mat to meditate, ever since his vampire attributes had awoken he had taken to meditation, to soothe his troubled mind and soul of the heavy burdens of guilt.

Every now and again he would catch a glimpse of the future, of what was to come.

He hoped that with his mind clear and his soul cleansed he would be able to work on his clairvoyance.

But when he closed his eyes all he could see was red, as the redness faded to black a scent filled his nostrils.

An irony scent hr had come to know so well after the thirty days of feasting, blood. He could not see its origins, even as a figure emerged from the darkness, a figure he knew all to well.

"Don't you see Mylo…" Micahs strong voice echoed in the walls of his mind, "The path to power is paved in gold, along side it runs rivers of blood. Hand in hand, sin and power converge, and soon, very soon dear brother, our names will be on the lips of every mythical being. Man, woman, child and beast will know our names and fear us. We could rule this world together!" He laughed, "Join me!"

"You're wrong Micah!" His own voice echoed in the walls of his mind, seemingly filled with fear and anger, "Soon people will know what you have done!"

"Mylo?" His mothers sweet. soft, and gentle voice broke his concentration and snapped him out of his trance, "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright mother, just a bad dream…" He lied, hoping to convince himself more so than his mother, hoping and praying what he saw was only a dream.

"What did you see?" She asked as she sat down in front of him, crossing her legs, she took his hands into her own.

"I saw brother, covered in blood, preaching to me the path to power." Mylo spoke, his body still shaking and covered in sweat.

Victoria bit her lip as she rubbed small, gentle circles on the backs of his palm to soothe him as she did when he was a child. "Mylo. my son, cast aside these fantasies and focus on reality." She smiled sweetly, though her eyes told him that she was concerned.

He smiled back to her, "Yes mother, anything for you, I will be to bed soon, I just want to meditate a while longer."

"As you wish, but do be to bed soon. I want you to get plenty of sleep." She placed a kiss on his forehead and walked back inside.

He sighed, he could tell even she was disturbed by his visions.

†††

"What kind of potential?" Micah asked as they were more than half way home.

"A potential to be stronger than you were ever to imagine." Solomon spoke passionately. "Stronger than your father, stronger than your mother, and more importantly stronger than your brother." He sighed, "Ah, but first you must learn to control your anger and lust before I tell you anymore of the path to power." He spoke solemnly.

"Will you teach me how?" Micah all but begged him, though he had never begged fore anything his entire life, Solomon was offering him keys to the kingdom and he desperately wanted to prove his worth.

"No, I cannot teach you self-control, which is a journey you must take alone." He paused, "I shall brew you a potion to help you on your path to self discovery."

"A potion?"


	3. Micahs' Discovery

Tying the boy to his bed he tipped the potion against his lips and watched him swallow the clear violet liquid. "Micah." He warned. "Unless you face your demons there is no way back." He sighed.

Micah swallowed hard, the bitter taste of the potion remained, "I'm ready." He could say no more as reality faded and darkness consumed him.

Fear froze his blood as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see only himself; not a mirror, not an illusion, but a copy of himself.

When he moved the other him would stop him, "Why should I let you pass? Your blood is frozen in fear, heart beating like that of a hummingbird"

Fear consumed by anger, as he felt the new surge of strength in his body he slammed his right fist into the other being and watched as the image shattered to pieces.

Now was his time to move…

As he moved forward on his quest to self-discovery, he could not help but be curious about what his soul contained.

Though darkness surrounded him, he could see the narrow path that he walked upon, as he peered over the edge, he could see an abyss of sharp, jagged rocks down below that promised certain death if he were to fall.

Is this what his soul was?

Darkness and pain?

He kept his eyes forward on the dull gray path that was to lead him to his soul self-control.

Although the trail was monotonous, it all came to an end when he happened upon a mahogany door, cracked and damaged as though it had been weathered.

A shiver went down his spine, he looked to the door, hesitant to open the door. He wasn't sure whether he really wanted to or nor, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to see what Hell may lie on the other side of the door, what he saw though was not what he was expecting.

Breathing fast and hard, he gathered the courage, placed his hand on the brass door knob and forced his way into the door, eyes closed.

The sudden force of him crashing through the door had shocked him, and before he knew it, he was on the floor, eye closed and in pain from skinning his knee on the concrete floor.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he opened his eyes and looked around. Glorious, it was a beautiful room, filled with a red carpet the color of burgundy, mahogany walls covered in strange paintings. The demons in the room however were a different story, faceless creatures of all shapes and sizes, seven of them, all leaning or sitting on a piece of the beautiful furniture.

He knew what he had to do, he had to kill his demons to make himself whole again, although he had no idea how any of this would happen, all he could do was rely on his brute strength and his somewhat quick wit.

As he stood and brushed himself off, he was rushed by the biggest demon first, struck in the face by what felt like an oak tree, he staggered backwards. "Tell me demon, which are you?"

The demon was large, roughly six-foot tall, looking as if he was made of pure muscle and some type of rock. Wearing black pants, no shoes and no shirt, he could see abs etched into the creatures' torso.

"You should know me well, the anger that surges through your veins, the vile that seeps into your mind, you know who I am." The demon grinned, its' teeth as sharp as razors, "Say my name…"

Micah grinned, though through a split lip, he stood confidently," Rage, where have you been all these years, you have let me become strong, you have helped me determine whom loves me and whom does not."

As he dodged another blow from the creature known as Rage, he landed on a table. Heart beating as fast as a hummingbirds' wings, though he knew it would not be easy to defend himself. Fear and uncertainty began to fuel him, heart racing and palms sweating, barely able to dodge the next blow.

As he tried to stay away from Rage, he took one blow after another, unsure of what his next move would be. One thing he knew for sure, was that if he didn't move fast enough, he would surely be dead soon.

Sudden realization flooded his body with a strange and eerie sense of calm, he sat down on a table and took a deep breath, leveling out the fear, the anger and the uncertainty. "You won't be able to touch me, you won't be able to kill me, and I will be the only one to be able to make myself feel this way again."

Rage, going for the kill this time, decided to go straight for the heart. Micah stood, jumping down from the table, allowing his claws to come out and slashed the throat of the demon, watching as Rage turned to dust before his very eyes.

"What dumb luck, you'll never be as good as your brother, you should give up." A demon whispered in his ear, although the demon whispered sweet and sorrowful words into his ears, he knew who it was.

"You'll never be able to beat your brother, you'll never be able to accomplish your goals, you won't be able to live with yourself anymore."

The whisper in his ear, the pain in his head, "STOP!" He screamed, trying to jerk away, but it was too late, her nail digging into the back of his head, he had already fallen victim to depression.

"Come to me, give up my love, do not fear, I will take you to a better place." She whispered, as she smirked, "Come to me…"

Shivering, fearful and angry, he grabbed at the back of his head, grabbing her hand and snapping it off her insolent hand, "You will never get the best of me, you will never take away from what I have done and what I would do."

As he turned around he grabbed her by the throat and laughed in her face, slamming her body repeatedly onto the table, smashing her porcelain body onto the strong mahogany table.

Watching her body disintegrate as well, he knew all to well. Two down, and five more to go, who was next?

Who would be the next one that he faced.

Then there she was, busty, beautiful hour glass shaped body, strutting towards him, "You must be lust…" He growled and looked to the beauty of the faceless demon, "I can dispose of you quickly…" He grabbed her by the throat and tried to slam her down, but unlike the others, she did not shatter, but merely laughed in a shrill voice. Unlike the other demons, he could not vanquish her that easily, he had to outwit her.

His claws covered in dust as he attempted to slash at her throat, but he had failed, and she had grabbed his wrist and slammed him against the table.

Sitting on his waist, she ripped his shirt, grinning maliciously, "Don't you want me Micah, don't you want me?" She begged in her shrill voice, making his ears hurt, almost to the point of bleeding.

"No, you wretched thing, get off of me!" He yelled at her, trying to shove her away, but she rained and used her stone hand to press inside his chest.

Pain flooded his body as he coughed up blood, "I am who you have always dreamed about, the love lost, the lust you wanted."

Grabbing her hand, he slowly and surely shoved it into her own chest, though the struggle had left him feeling weak, this was was not good, this was not good at all, he still had four more demons to kill.

As she turned to dust he looked to the others, tired of trying anymore he grabbed a fire iron and used the last little bit of strength that he had had left and infused the iron in a powerful magic, thus he began to swing wildly at the demons, killing one by one as they lunged at him.

Dust, blood and the sounds of shattering glass echoed and surrounded him, though he could not last long, he knew that he was almost free, almost to the point of victory.

As he kept swinging, the sounds had been silenced, the dust that had clung to him and gone through the stagnant air of the room was beginning to settle.

He had won.

This was his victory…

He looked around, everything was becoming hazy, the room began to spin around him, and before he knew it he had collapsed onto the ground.

Eyes fluttering open, he looked over to see Solomon, sitting alert in a chair, watching and waiting. Perhaps just making sure that the boy survived, perhaps to tend to the wounds that the demons had inflicted on the boy whilst he was defeating them inside of his very soul.

"We should get to work now Micah, never know who might try to stop us."

Micah nodded and stood up, losing his balance for a moment, before straightening himself out, "Fine, let's go."


End file.
